Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1887-12-01

lies morning the loss of one or their
number who had died during the night,
many grieving for children separated in
the crowds, all remembering homes, COM
forts, blessings, forever lost.
With dawn, wagons from the unburned
part of the city began to arrive, sent by
kind hearts which remembered the hosts
of homeless fellow creatures, and filled
with food, Bread, meat and coffee wore
distributed, and Grace-thaDks TO her
friend the German woman-received a
larg roll.
But new uneasiness, or rather the OLD
one, began to creep over her; fear that
this woman might try to de:ain her,
might suspect the treasure she bore. Al
though with many pangs at the apparent
thanklessness of the act, she took occa-
sion, while her friend was absent, to slip
away and turn once more towards town.
She had heard that all the churches and
school houses were thrown open to the
homeless, and she must start on her
search for papa and mamma. First, how
ever she stole softly around the groups
on the praire, fearing, yet almost hoping,
to find them there.
Misery, sickness, death, insanity, trou-
hles of all sorts she saw, but not face
that she knew; and bravely once more
she started on the road to what was left
of the city.
All that day long she walked, weary.
footsore, nearly crazy, inquiriug her way
to churches and school houses, and go
ing through every one that she found.
I'm looking for my papa, who's sick, !"
opened all doors to her. Eagerly, almost
wildly as the hours went by, she psered
into the faces of the crowd. She ate
something-she knew not what; some
body made her sit down and eat and
drink; somebody said kind words IN her
ear; SON ebody took off her soaked and
ruined shoes, aud put on pair that were
dry. though coarse somebody tried to take
off her jacket to dry it, for it was soak
ing with last nights rain. But fear of
discovery aroused her. She tore away
with cry, and ran many blocks before
she dared to look around TO see if she
were purs ued.
just as it began to grow dark Grace
who had all day heard dreadful tales of
suffering and death, of people burned up,
and people dying of exposure-was set
thing into the belief that she no longer
had father or mother, that she should all
her life be a tramp and beggar, and that
all her sufferings hau not after all saved
her dear papa, for whose sake she had
braved everything. just at this lowest
point of her courage, her eyes fell upon
a familiar face coming out of a church.
"Oh Maggie!" sac cried, with her heart
on her lips, where's my papa~
SAN who are ye thin?" asked the tidy
Irish girl. 81 don't know ye boY.n
so Maggie I'm Grace! I'm not boy;
| have on Bert's clothes" Here she whis-
peaed: I'll went to get something
for papa"
"laith thin! do believe it's Miss Grace
| herself; but | niver should ha' known her!
Holy Mother! won't they be wild, just?'
ana Selling one arm of Grace with a grip
like iron, she started off with rapid strides
| towards the suburbs.
"But Maggie, tell nae are they safe? Do
you know anything about them, Maggie?'
with cry so full of agony that the good
hearted though rough girl stopped.
"Well, yis, thin; they're safe and sound
in me brothers. bit house on the prairie.
They couldn't git no place to stay. Your
pa was carried in the wagon, and l and the
Missis rode with the driver. We couldn't
| git any place, an so / made bold to speak
of me brother who has a spare bed-so he
has. So they went there, glad enough TO
git roof over their heads. But amt
they just wild about you Your pa was
out o. his sinses all night, an your ma
walked the house like mad creatur' I'm
out now-have been all day-trying to
find you. And why thin, I'd like to know,
did ye run away that black dayp
But Grace could not answer. Relief
and Joy, added to her sufferings, were too
much. She had tainted dead away.
About s o'clock that evening there stole
into the back door of an Irishman's snan-
ty on the prairie neat Irish girl, half
dragging, half carrying the deathlike
figure of boy, ragged, forlorn, miser-
able; he looked like one of the worst
vagabonds of city life.
Mrs. Lord was warming something at
the fire, and looking so old and changed
that Grace hardly knew her. At sight of
Maggie she looked up eagerly, but seeing
her companion she fell back with a
moan.
"oh, my Godl you haven't found her,
| then?"
"Thin ye don't know her, Missis? No
more did l; but look agsinl"
| Another and closer look, and mother
and child were in each others arms.
| Good news travels rs fast as bad, and
in one minute more Grace was in the
arms of her father, and such a scene OF
tears and sobs and groans and cries, may
it never be your lot to see.
When all were calm, and Grace was
warmed and fed and bathed and dressed
| in some clothet afaggie's, in which she
| looked like an overgrown doll; and when
the precious package, which had so near
| ly cost the lives of Grace and her father,
was found to be not destroyed by its
soaking-Grace told her story, or what
she could of it. Much of it she could
not recall, and never again could she be
induced to repeat it, so full of horror it
was.
! All through the dismal tale she was in
terrupted by her mothers tears and sobs,
and her fathers words, more precious
than gold, Brave girl Little daughter!
My darIingl Brave little womanw and
ending with long embrace, and the last
word of all:
"Little woman, you have saved your
fathers bonor and his lifsl You have
/ L n